


231 Minutes to Morning

by Tarlan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-23
Updated: 2009-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither John nor Rodney want to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	231 Minutes to Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Tag to Doppelganger.  
> Written for **MMOM2009** Challenge - Day 22

He'd had sleepless nights before where the shadows moved, creating pictures of terror he'd experienced in real life, though more often his imagination took him beyond even the horror of reality. The creature had fed on those fears, lurking in the shadows of his soul and finding the one chink in his armor: Rodney.

At first, it had not even seemed to be a dream, segueing so perfectly from the nightmare-reality of only moments earlier, of experiencing Rodney's terror as the whale came up beneath the row boat to engulf both of them in its giant maw. He'd felt Rodney's terror and heard the whine of the defibrillator and the thump of electric discharge into Rodney's body.

Devastation.

That word could barely describe the feeling as he watched Keller's losing battle for Rodney's life, seeing the despair in her eyes palpable even through the hazmat visor as she finally gave up. As he rolled off the medtable and walked away, his mind was still reeling in shock, unable to imagine an Atlantis without Rodney and his quicksilver mind.

He knew the creature had jumped back into him when he was confronted by the others blaming him for Rodney's death. He knew them well enough to know they would never turn on him; knew it was the creature dragging out what Rodney called his hero complex, his weakness in blaming himself for any deaths no matter that he couldn't save everyone. Yet the lifeless form of Rodney on the next medtable persisted; the whine and thump of the defibrillator crystal clear in the quiet isolation room. He knew that part was the truth, that Rodney's heart had stopped beating; that the creature had scared Rodney to death and John had not been able to stop it.

Seeing the creature staring back at him, wearing his face, was the final insult. It had killed Heightmeyer and now Rodney, and the rage boiled up inside John at that final loss, as if only just realizing how important Rodney had been to him. Even before he attacked, he knew it would have an advantage, turning his fears against him, playing with his weaknesses. The greatest weakness was whether he wanted to live anyway now that Rodney was gone, so it took several seconds for him to get over the shock of seeing Rodney walking down the main stairs towards them. He was wearing the tight new uniform that molded itself to his broad shoulders and chest, and to a waist trimmed by forced exercise and racing to the Stargate for their lives.

Rodney's supreme confidence had faded once John symbolically tossed the creature out of his mind through the Stargate, and yet all John felt was a desperate need to know if this Rodney was just a figment of his imagination, or the real man.

When he came back to full consciousness only that one thought filled his mind and he turned instantly towards the other medtable. A momentary fear filled him, afraid that this was just another deception but Rodney was already turned to face him, his bright, life-filled eyes staring back at John. Alive. So wondrously alive.

Keller kept them in the Infirmary for the next couple of hours until they could convince her that they were fine, mainly because both of them wanted to be part of the team that took the crystalline creatures back to their home world. The temptation to crush the one that had killed Heightmeyer was almost too strong to resist though John knew it would have been impossible if Rodney had died too. Still, he was glad to dump the creatures and get off that world, ensuring Rodney placed a permanent entry against the Stargate address with clear warnings. John wanted to make certain no one else made the same mistake and brought back another one of those creatures.

Later, as the night drew on, John found himself alone in the cafeteria. Quickly, he calculated how long until the sun rose; 354 minutes. He was unable to bear the thought of closing his eyes just in case this was still part of the nightmare, lulling him into a false sense of security so it could break him down and kill him, feeding off him in the process. Strangely, he felt no surprise when first Teyla then Rodney joined him. Within another ten minutes every seat at the table was full and he let the chatter roll over him, finally losing some of his inner tension when Ronon started stealing from Rodney's overflowing snack tray. The squawks of possessiveness were so typically McKay, and so was the way Rodney tried to barricade the tray from Ronon with his arms, unsuccessfully.

Carter was the first to leave, accompanied by Keller. Teyla followed minutes later with Ronon, leaving John and Rodney alone together in the quiet cafeteria. He glanced at his watch and sighed inwardly. 264 minutes until morning.

Surprisingly, Rodney stopped hoarding his tray of goodies and pushed it between them, offering to share what remained; Ronon had managed to grab quite a lot. John leaned in and bumped shoulders with Rodney before picking at a few grape-like fruits and they picked at the rest in silence. All too soon, there was nothing left and Rodney gave a worried glance followed by a big sigh.

"Guess I'd better turn in," he stated but John wasn't fooled by the nonchalant tone. He knew from an earlier conversation that the nightmare about being eaten by a whale was not actually a new thing for Rodney, that he'd lived with that particular fear since childhood. It sort of explained Rodney's morbid fascination with the whale-like creatures living on Lantea.

"I'll walk you to your quarters."

Rodney made a noncommittal sound and pushed up from the table, busing the tray before heading towards the exit with John just a few steps behind him. John closed the distance, walking side-by-side as they made their way slowly along quiet corridors, acknowledging the occasional patrol. All too soon they arrived at Rodney's room but Rodney seemed reluctant to enter, and John was reluctant to let him go. It was stupid, and he rubbed the back of his neck, still wondering how to break this stalemate when Rodney uttered, "Oh for...", and dragged him inside.

"Rodney?"

Anything more was lost as warm lips merged with his, and if John was uncertain of Rodney's intentions before then he was left with no doubt when a tongue slipped between his slightly parted lips, deepening the kiss. By the time Rodney drew back, they were both breathless, and hard. Rodney's hand palmed his cock through the layers of material and John groaned, pelvis thrusting to increase the pressure.

"You want that?"

Eagerness and uncertainty waged a battle in Rodney's eyes, and the simplest answer was to thrust back into that hand, breath catching at the delicious sensations flooding through him. John drew Rodney back into another kiss, eager to taste his lips and to possess his mouth as his hips jerked to increase the pressure of Rodney's palm against his groin. He pulled back with annoyance when the pressure eased, until he realized Rodney was unzipping his pants before drawing them down.

"Genius," he murmured into Rodney's mouth. "Pure genius."

He gasped into the kiss as strong fingers wrapped around his cock, jacking him slowly, and was overcome with an urge to reciprocate. His fingers scrabbled for Rodney's pants, somehow managing to open them and then huffing out a laugh when the baggier pants dropped to form a puddle of material around Rodney's ankles. The boxers were less helpful but John found his prize, fist closing around Rodney, smiling against the low moan as Rodney thrust into his hand, hot and hard.

They found a mutual rhythm, mouths sealed in a kiss as they brought each other to the edge, senses whiting out in a haze of pleasure as he followed Rodney into ecstasy, uncaring of the slickness coating his fingers and splattering over his t-shirt. Hard, urgent kisses became soft and languid, the buzz of release drawing any remaining tension from John's limbs and he collapsed on the wide bed beside Rodney.

They wallowed in the afterglow for several minutes before Rodney reached into the bedside cabinet and drew out a packet of wet-wipes for the clean-up. He could feel Rodney fighting against the lassitude in his body, loose and relaxed after sex, watching as the long lashes fluttered over sleepy eyes. His own limbs felt heavy too and he yawned widely.

With only 231 minutes to go until dawn, John wrapped his arms around Rodney's sleeping form and, against his will, his eyes drifted closed. Yet, the warmth of Rodney's body and the security of his strong arms followed John down into sleep, keeping the nightmares at bay, and he slept peaceably until morning.

END


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